Sentimentality
by flowerewolf
Summary: Sirius is at the hospital, left with old photo albums and a handkerchief with the letters RJL embroidered on the corner. SiriusxRemus. Oneshot.


Our resolution was a sacred secret, something we whispered at 2:53 in the morning after we got home from James' party; he had taken his shower and I had finished scratching my belly idly, listening to the sound of water splashing on his skin (how I wanted to climb into the shower with him right then). We were both tired as fuck, but we knew we had to make one because obviously; our relationship was losing the stability it had in our younger years, just like how your best shirt gets frayed and wrinkled no matter how delicately you treat it. I suspect we were both afraid that if we didn't have a common goal to aim towards, we would both just fizzle apart, because there are few fires that can burn on forever and Remus and I understood this well.

In the end, both of us had failed to reach our goal, and I should've assumed immediately that that was an omen, but instead I laughed off my disappointment and led him to the couch, as always.

You wouldn't understand, but back then we should've felt grateful for what we had. Now, I can only sip my tea, succumbing to the waves of nostalgia constantly crashing into me. A glowing sunflower next to my bed reminds me of one I placed in Remus' sun-kissed hair (it was the color of honey) during one breezy summer at his uncle's house by the sea. The threadbare couch in the dayroom makes me see hallucinations, of the two of us lying on it, kissing and touching and trying to find the perfect position, so excited about finally living together under the same roof. A nurse's porcelain hand turns into Remus', and the howl of a dog outside my window turns into his pain-ridden cry.

Some of the memories are foggy and obtuse, while others are vivid and vehement, and a few (sadly, I've only discovered this now) are completely blank.

The best ones, though, are from Christmastime (obviously this is debatable because every single second I spent with him was brilliant), when he would find time away from work and I would find time away from my own selfish needs, and we would both meet under the mistletoe at midnight with mischievous smiles just like we always had.

When we were in school, he would usually invite me along to anywhere he and his family went for the holidays, even though his parents always seemed much too tired and wore exhausted smiles that later Remus would enjoy displaying as well. It was better than listening to my mother scream with her various relatives, and I was grateful.

That was one of the good qualities of the Lupins; they were welcoming and did not judge as often as my family did, and I always figured that if they could still love their son after their misfortunes, then they were automatically made extraordinary parents . When they weren't watching, Remus and I would creep behind a snow-laced tree, furtively taking a warm mug of hot chocolate with us ('The very best of its kind,' he would insist), sipping between kisses until we fell into his bedroom, giggling like toddlers.

He would brush snow out of my hair, and I would kiss his pale collarbone.

His folks would call us in for dinner an hour later, patient, and we would steal glances at each other between mouthfuls of hearty chicken pot pie and piping hot tomato soup while we chatted about trivial things like the weather in Cuba and whether or not I was going to find a decent job for myself when I got out of school. I would laugh whenever they shared something embarrassing that Remus had told them about me. They would chuckle when I told one of my jokes, ones that I can't even seem to remember now.

Afterwards, they'd let us wander about until 11:00, and usually we would sit by the lake with our shoes off, listening to the night sounds and kissing until he would murmur sleepily into my jacket that his parents would start to worry and what if they had found us?

I spent Christmas with them a few times, choosing to throw away my family. Remus and I had squatted underneath the large tree once, squinting in the dark and trying to get the lights to turn on without getting the needles down our shirts or anywhere else unpleasant. The second he leaned in to kiss me, laughter still on our lips, the bright lights turned on, blue and green and red and white dancing in front of my eyes and illuminating his gorgeous face. It was raw beauty for a few moments, and then they suddenly turned off again. Just. Like. That. We laughed and in the end, took them down.

And sometimes I wonder if it's these memories that keep me alive, and that even if I took out the tubes in my limbs I could still dance and fly like I always did, because the spirit and impression of Remus and the years we spent together are still in me and maybe it was actually him that kept my heart beating all along. And after all these weary years, I never even had the chance to thank him, too.


End file.
